Captain's Honour
by JSamuelWrites
Summary: When Dayvidd Druffies – captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Corinthian Rain – is made to join the Imperial Inquisition, he discovers he is Force Sensitive. A story of betrayal, set around the time of The Empire Strikes Back.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Captain Dayvidd Druffies stood on the command deck of the Imperial Class Star Destroyer _Corinthian Rain_ \- a beautiful bone white arrow in the midst of chaos - observing the swirling energies of hyperspace. Despite twenty standard years service in the Imperial Navy, it was a sight Druffies never got tired of seeing.

Druffies had joined the Navy in the final days of the Old Republic. He'd seen the holo vid news showing General Grievous' fleet destroy his home world Centril Prime, a world whose only value was that it had none. The elder Council who administrated the planet had refused to allow Grievous to hide the cowardly Separatist leadership on their planet and had foolishly tried to alert the nearest Clone base, located three sectors away. By the time the warning had gotten through, the Invisible Hand and its escorts had reduced Centril to a charred ball of death, oceans boiled away to nothing, it's beautiful rain forests burned to embers and every living creature on the planet dead. Druffies had been just about to graduate the Academy on Coruscant and had sworn revenge against the Rebels.

 _Corinthian Rain_ was currently en route to a dead system two sectors core-ward from Corillia. Imperial Intelligence had reported that Rebel Alliance Smugglers where meeting black market smugglers in this system in an illicit arms deal. Druffies' orders where to capture the Rebels and their smuggler allies and find out who their superiors were. Accompanying _Rain_ was an Immobilizer Class Cruiser called _Snare Trap_ and an elderly Victory Class Star Destroyer, _Iron Butterfly_. More than enough to overpower and subdue a few Rebel ships.

"Captain, we're almost at the reversion point. We decant in five minutes, sir," called Ardillies, a Corellian that was Druffies' second in command.

"Very good, Commander, have fighter control ready to deploy TIEs in a screening formation on reversion and send orders to Snare Trap to power up her Grav Well Generators as soon as we emerge. Iron Butterfly is to decant now and prepare to micro jump if this is an ambush, Thrawn style," ordered Druffies.

"Orders relayed sir," affirmed Ardillies.

Druffies hated this part of his job, the uncertainty of possible confrontation. He knew that at forty-five years of age he was lucky to be in command of an Imperial Star Destroyer while the majority of his surviving classmates from the old Academy where scattered amongst the various support ships in the massive Imperial Fleet. Druffies had been fortunate enough to serve on the bridge crew of Thrawn and, while not the genius Thrawn was, Druffies committed enough of his tricks to his playbook to have pulled off a few interesting victories in Fleet Wargames. Many however, resented Druffies' status as a student of Thrawn. Thrawn was an alien from outside the Empire, and suspicion and xenophobia was rife in the fleet, though only among the rank and file. Officers were supposed to know better than to cloud judgement with prejudice. Thrawn had played at Imperial politics and lost; a loss felt by anyone associated with him.

With a jolt, _Corinthian Rain_ emerged from the maelstrom energies of hyperspace. Druffies felt a second jolt as _Snare Trap_ engaged her Grav Well Generators, each one providing the pull of a full-sized star. Any Rebels who appeared in the system would be staying in place for the foreseeable future.

The Star Destroyer's Bridge was a flurry of activity. Starfighter coordinators scrambled fighter squadrons to screening position around the mighty ship. Analysts scanned sensor reports for anomalies in the area and specialists of the various operation on the great ship made sure every thing was one-hundred percent ready - Druffies ran a tight ship.

"The trap is set sir," reported Deispard, Corinthian Rain's operations/communications officer.

Druffies acknowledged the man and felt a pride swell in his chest. Everything was going like clockwork.

"Sir, we have several contacts appearing out of hyperspace," cried out the sensors officer, a capable though painfully young Ensign. "We count eight ships. Sensor profiles suggest nothing larger than a Corvette. All smuggler type ships."

"Your orders, Captain?" enquired Ardillies.

"By the book, Commander. Send them a transmission asking them to prepare for inspection. If they refuse, target their engines with an Ion Cannon battery."

"Unidentified ships, this is the Imperial Star Destroyer Corinthian Rain, prepare to be Sensor Focused and boarded for inspection," commanded the Comms officer into the pickup of his headset. There was an almost immediate reply.

"Sir, they wish to protest. The captain of these "independent businessmen" claim we are harassing them to protect the Merchant Navies control," reported Deispard.

"Starfighter Command," said Druffies, turning to the relevant part of the crew pit. "Send over a squadron of Interceptors for a fly by, and order the Wing Commander to herd them deeper into the Interdiction Field. If fired on, defend themselves but do not to provoke hostilities."

Druffies gazed at the eight ships in the display screen of his command console. One disarmed Corellian Corvette and several other ships comprised this smuggler fleet. The scan had shown that the ship's cargo comprised mostly of Heavy Turbo Lasers, targeting systems for said weapons and charged Tabana Gas to enhance the weapons, stolen from various Imperial Shipyards across the Empire. These "independent captains" could expect at least thirty years hard labour spice mining on Kessel, if they were lucky.

Druffies was curious, why did this new Rebel Alliance need heavy turbo lasers? All information suggested that the Rebels didn't have ships big or powerful enough to mount them on. Terrorist groups generally didn't like a stand up fight. Still, that was for Intelligence to investigate. Druffies' reverie was interrupted as two large ships dropped out of hyperspace, pulled by the Interdictor's still powered up Grav Wells.

"Sensors, what the hell are those things?" demanded Druffies.

"Hard to say, Sir, preliminary scans make them out as Mon Calamari Cruise Vessels, though the readings are strange," reported the sensor officer.

"I wonder what brings them to this dead end," Druffies mused, aloud. No sooner had the words left his mouth than several dozen lances of green energy poured from the strange looking vessel approaching them.

"Raise Shields!" he cried. "Gunners, fire at will! Sensors, find out what in the name of kriffing Kessel those ships are packing!"

The two Mon Cal. ships circled the damaged Destroyer; pinpoint Turbo Laser strikes further damaging systems throughout the ship. Consoles popped with weak sparks, electrical fires stopped before they started by computer controlled CO2 sprays in each terminal.

 _Snare Trap_ was in a far worse state. The ship was unable to raise shields while its Grav Well Generators were powered, and its formerly pristine white hull was blackened and charred; fires raged from stem to stern.

"Call Iron Butterfly, sent them our co-ordinates and order it to jump immediately," commanded Druffies; very aware both his ship and his command were in severe danger.

Like an avenging angel of death, _Iron Butterfly_ swooped in from its hyperspace exit. The Interdictor Cruiser had pulled it prematurely from hyperspace, as Druffies had planned, in a trick he learned from Thrawn before his banishment.

The combined firepower of _Iron Butterfly_ and _Corinthian Rain_ stopped the Mon Cal. attack in its tracks and they were forced to go on the defensive. The Imperials, too busy fighting for their lives, didn't notice the smuggler's ships as they surged out of the Grav Well Shadow and escaped to the safety of Hyperspace.

 _Snare Trap_ was not so lucky. Her generators under severe stress, and her bridge destroyed, the Interdictor exploded under a huge barrage of turbo laser fire from both alien ships.

The Interdictor was still a rapidly expanding ball of flame when both Mon Cal. Cruisers followed their smuggler comrades into the untraceable depths of hyperspace.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

In the dead empty space of a backwater system, _Corinthian Rain_ drifted under the watchful attentions of the Victory Destroyer, _Iron Butterfly_. Off in the distance floated the wreckage of an Interdiction Cruiser.

Captain Druffies hobbled around the command deck of his bridge. Blood from a scalp wound covered his face and his uniform tunic, and he stood like a blood-stained statue as various crews tried frantically to repair systems in case the mysterious Mon Calamari ships returned.

"Here is the finalised damage report sir," reported an engineering specialist handing over a datapad.

Still shocked from the beating _Rain_ had received, Druffies forgot to return the engineers salute or even to thank him - a forgivable lapse in Imperial Protocol, given the circumstances.

The report made for grim reading. Over half the Heavy Turbo Lasers were destroyed, and only a handful of the remaining guns had computer assisted targeting. His ship had lost its topside shields and, somehow, the Mon Cal's had managed to destroy the majority of his TIE fighter wing. Over five hundred of his crew lay dead in Cryo and one thousand more men and women lay injured in the ships overtaxed infirmary. _Snare Trap_ was a complete loss - all hands had went down with the ship. No survivors were detected.

Druffies set down the datapad and punched in the sequence on his command board to send a Holonet transmission to the Admiral in charge of this sector fleet. It was time to face the music.

It wasn't long until Admiral Benaq himself requested a visual report of the disaster.

"Put him through to my ready room ensign," ordered Druffies, finally leaving the bridge.

He entered his day room, located aft of the command bridge, and prepared himself for the worst. Standard Imperial procedure: hope for the best but expect the worst.

Benaq's imposing features appeared on the holoprojector in the middle of the room.

"I think you better explain yourself, Druffies, starting with how you let a billion credit Cruiser explode in to scrap," demanded Benaq.

Benaq was a native of Corellia and Admiral of the Corellian sector fleet. Corellia was a system known for smugglers, pirates and low-level crime. In an attempt to disprove the Corellian stereotype, Benaq prided himself on being an "Imperial's Imperial," a concept which made things quite difficult on the men under his command. Yet, despite this, Benaq sported a neatly trimmed beard - a violation of Imperial Navy Regulations.

"My men did their best, sir. We where ambushed and out gunned. Despite this we survived," retorted Druffies, defending his crew from obvious criticism.

"Yes. Against two passenger liners full of fish, very admirable. I'm sure the crew of Snare Trap appreciate that. Frack it, Druffies, that was the only Interdictor in my fleet!" snorted Benaq.

"They may have started life as a passenger liner, Admiral, but those monstrosities where each packing as much firepower as my ship and their Shield and Hull Armour rating were superior."

"Yes, but no matter now. You look a mess, Druffies. A true Imperial leads best by leading from the front. If you're at the front you must look your best. Get your head looked at and put on a fresh uniform."

Druffies was astonished to be let off so easily. "Yes Admiral," he replied. "What repair dock will I report to? Corellia?"

"No," said Benaq, with a vicious gleam in his eye. "You are to go to Coruscant. Corinthian Rain has an appointment with dry dock there. And you, Druffies… You have an appointment with the Emperors own Imperial Inquisitors. Any sins you have in your heart will be uncovered soon enough."

Druffies was so shocked he couldn't talk. Imperial Inquisitors were the nightmare every Imperial Captain feared. Myth and rumour about them was rife in the armed services of the Empire. If one took a dislike to you, not only would you never be seen again but neither would you family or anyone who knew them.

"I'd like to say it's been nice knowing you, Druffies, but that would be a lie. Hopefully the next Captain of Corinthian Rain won't be another of Thrawn's boot lickers. You alien lovers make me sick. Good day Captain."

With that the holoprojection of Benaq winked out and was replaced with Navy logo. Normally a symbol of hope and joy, Druffies looked upon Imperial Emblem with a sense of dread and fear he had not felt since he saw the pictures of his devastated home world last.

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Druffies had spent a nervous few hours in orbit above Coruscant, ensuring _Corinthian Rain_ was in good hands before his departure. He had gotten the injured ferried to Imperial City's various medical establishments and forwarded the reports from his various department heads filed and forwarded to the shipyard repair crew who would be overseeing the refit of Rain for the next few months.

He could put it off no longer. It was time to face the Imperial Inquisition.

On board the shuttle down to Imperial City, the ride was smooth yet there was still an upset in his stomach. He recalled the various stories he'd heard of the Inquisition, wild stories of entire planets being razed over mere rumours and families being expunged from imperial records in penance for the error of one man.

As the shuttle entered Coruscant's atmosphere he felt a jolt as they passed through a gap in the first planetary shields, the first of three such shield gaps the ship had to pass.

From thousands of meters up the city seemed so small. The speeders and transports looked like little insects from his perspective.

And the shuttle dropped further still. Druffies only then began to appreciate the scale of Coruscant. What he had taken to be minor streets must have been major boulevards and the small speeders huge freight transports.

The shuttle landed on a platform that could easily have accommodated a large Strike Class Cruiser. At the bottom of the ramp awaited two armoured guards, the first Inquisitors he had met, to his knowledge.

Druffies trudged down the ramp determined to drink in all the details. The guards wore a stylised version of Stormtrooper armour coloured red and black instead of the standard white. The helmets were shaped much more angular and the eye slits glowed a daunting green. The body armour was much more detailed, the shoulder guards were shaped like fierce feline animals and in the middle of the chest pieces was the symbol of the Empire. Each guard was armed with a blaster rifle held in arms position and, strapped onto their backs, was what appeared to be a two handed great sword.

"Captain, you will come with us," commanded the Trooper on the left.

"Lead on," replied Druffies with as much calm as he could muster.

The troopers, flanking Druffies on either side, led him to the only structure on the roof - a turbolift alcove. No button was pressed but as soon as they entered the lift the doors closed smoothly. The lift descended for so long Druffies was sure he was close to bedrock level, something Coruscanti had not seen in years.

Eventually, after what seemed like another age, the turbolift shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. The stoic troopers led Druffies down a long and dank corridor which, on further inspection, seemed like it had been cut from stone. Druffies was also struck by the realisation that there were no doors except for the one that they stopped in front of.

With a sharp hiss the door opened and a voice drifted out to Druffies.

"Enter Captain, I have been looking forward to receiving you," came a disembodied voice full of menace.

Druffies entered the room and blinked in the sudden sharp light after the gloominess of the corridor.

"Captain Druffies reporting as ordered, sir," offered Druffies snapping off a sharp salute a parade Sargent would be proud off.

"Sit down, Captain. We have much to discuss," said the figure behind the desk.

Despite the brightness of the room, Druffies found that his eyes couldn't focus on the inquisitor, his eyes kept sliding off and he was unable to take in many details beyond dark robes he wore and the eyes blazing from under the hood.

"You know why you are here, Captain?" he was asked, in as much a threat as a question.

"No, sir," he replied. "I was ordered by Admiral Benaq to come to Coruscant for refit. When I arrived in system I received a message on my datapad to report to this location."

"You know more than you are telling me, Captain. Please don't be coy. I am your friend," replied the stern yet lazy tone of the Inquisitor.

"As you command sir," replied Druffies taking a deep breath and getting ready to unburden himself. "My ship was ambushed and severely damaged, I lost a Interdiction Cruiser under my command. When I informed the chain of command Admiral Benaq told me that the Inquisition was to investigate the incident."

"Tell me more about the incident, Captain."

Druffies braced himself. He could feel a pressure on his brain but mentally shrugged it off, assuming it was the slightly different gravity on Coruscant and being this far down.

"My Star Destroyer, Corinthian Rain, along with Iron Butterfly and Snare Trap was acting on a tip off from a local smuggler that the Rebels were smuggling some arms through a lifeless system, listed on Imperial Records as CW-1253. Once we arrived in the system I ordered TIE Fighters deployed and Snare Trap to power up its Grav Well Generators."

"You ordered Iron Butterfly to drop out of hyperspace early? Why was that, Captain?"

Druffies felt the pressure on his mind intensify.

"I had a hunch that there was more to this that a standard smuggling bust. Using an Imperial Star Destroyer is overkill for such an operation."

As Druffies spoke the pressure began to subside. He continued, "As it happens I was correct. The smuggler ships arrived as we'd been advised, and I ordered the TIE squads to herd the ships further into the Interdiction field, sensors began deep scans and a shuttle of Stormtroopers was being prepared to launch for inspection. Preliminary scans indicated that the smugglers were carrying heavy weaponry, most likely the shipment of heavy Turbolasers stolen from Corellia last week. Two unidentified ships dropped in, out of hyperspace. I assumed they had been pulled out by the Interdiction field. Sensors ID'd them as Mon Calmari Star Liners. Unfortunately the Mon Cals concentrated fire on Snare Trap and it was lost with all hands. The smugglers and their Mon Cal allies then jumped back to hyperspace but due to the battle damage we were unable to track them."

"I read all this in the report, Captain. I didn't summon you to Imperial Centre to hear it repeated. What did you feel during the battle?" asked the inquisitor.

The pressure had intensified again.

"I had a bad feeling about this mission from the start, a good ship and nearly three thousand good men were lost. When I told Benaq about it he gloated about my failure and threw me to the wolves!" roared Druffies with an anger he didn't know he had.

"Captain, you weren't just ambushed, you were betrayed," came the maddeningly calm voice of the Inquisitor.

"Betrayed? How? Who by?" demanded Druffies, all the niceties of Imperial Protocol flying right out the airlock.

"Captain, search your feelings. You know who betrayed you."

"Benaq!" spat Druffies, the fury in him giving way to curiosity and sadness, "But why?"

"Admiral Benaq has been on the payroll of the Rebellion for some time. He is responsible for the Corellian Shipyards - shipyards that have been haemorrhaging materials for sometime. It seems that Benaq was supplying the Rebels with arms to retrofit the Mon Cal Star Liners into battleships. Imperial Intelligence was on to him. He used the ambush as cover for him to escape Corellia and to test the Mon Cal Cruisers in live battle."

"He must be brought to justice!" cried Druffies.

"He will, Captain, he will. I did not bring you here to investigate you, I brought you here to recruit you to the Inquisition, once trained your mission will be to locate Benaq and eliminate him."

Automatically Druffies mouth had dropped open. After a second he forced it shut. Whatever he expected, it wasn't that.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

After a night of very little sleep, Druffies was eager to begin his training as an Inquisitor. He'd accepted his new role. Of course he had, given that the real choice had been between acceptance and death. Still, inquisitor training wasn't a bad thing.

A message on his datapad ordered him to report to the training complex and a map of the facility was attached.

He entered a large assembly hall and was surprised to see that there were so few other trainees. Druffies acknowledged them with a polite nod and took as seat.

"First day of training is always the worst," quipped a snappily dressed young man to his left before offering a hand and introducing himself as "Carba, Stin Carba. First Mate of the Frigate Solar Winds."

"Druffies, Captain of Corinthian Rain," came the reply, as Druffies shook Carba's hand, relieved to know that he wasn't the only Navy man there.

Carba let loose a low whistle. "That's an Imperial Star Destroyer isn't it? I guess I should salute, sir," he whispered, finally remembering his decorum.

"At ease, this isn't the Navy now. Lets see how the inquisition wants us to play it," offered Druffies, with a gentle smile and friendly pat on the back.

On the platform of the assembly hall the lights went on revealing two of the Inquisition Troopers Druffies was familiar with, though he could not be sure if these were the same ones as they were so alike down to the same height and posture.

Behind the podium, between the Troopers, stood a dark robed man. Druffies took a moment to evaluate him. His robe was similar to the Inquisitor he had met yesterday. However this Inquisitor had the hood down revealing a middle-aged man with black hair and a neat goatee that ended in a long sharp fork from his chin. This time, Druffies has no problem drinking in the details.

He also noticed that the robe was trimmed in a blood red silk, and there seemed to be the bulk of armour under it. Druffies noted that the Inquisitor seemed to be armed with a longsword at his side, perhaps a symbol of office, he surmised.

"Greetings ladies and gentlemen," began the Inquisitor.

For the first time, Druffies became aware that there were indeed two women among the seven trainees gathered.

"You all know why you are here, to join the Imperial Inquisition, yet I doubt many of you know what the Inquisition does," the Inquisitor continued.

Druffies had a few ideas – he had heard wild stories from fellow Captains, of entire families wiped from Imperial records by vengeful Inquisitors.

The Inquisitor locked eyes on to him almost as if he had heard his thought. Panic gripped Druffies for a brief moment imagining that he had. The last thing he wanted was to offend a member of such a powerful body.

"The truth is, cadets, we exist for one purpose only. To protect the Empire from its enemies, internal and external, by seeking out and destroying any threat to His Imperial Majesty. Without an Emperor, we have no Empire."

Druffies, as a career Naval Officer, had no issue with this and immediately discounted the rumours he had heard.

"You may have noticed that there are very few of you here, a mere seven, yet this facility can handle hundreds if necessary," the Inquisitor carried on. "However, there is a reason for this. While the Inquisition employs many agents and troops, there are few that are worthy to be an Inquisitor. An Inquisitor must possess many qualities depending on his or her assignment, but each and every Inquisitor has one thing in common: an affinity to touch the Force."

The news of this sent Druffies reeling. How could this be? Only Jedi had the Force, and the Jedi had been corrupted and tried to assume control of the rotten Republic.

The Jedi had finally shown their hand when they tried to assassinate the Emperor several times, first by the so called rogue Jedi Dooku with his vile droid army, and then by Mace Windu and a few of his cohorts. Druffies remembered the Declaration of the Empire, now known as Imperial Day, when The Emperor had appeared before the Senate for the last time. His frail looking face a mass of scar tissue and weeping wounds. The Senate had heard an audio recording of the four Jedi attacking Palpatine in his office. If not for the intervention of Palpatine's loyal bodyguards, the Jedi would have plunged the Republic into darkness. Palpatine had saved the Republic from its own decadence and reforged it as the First Galactic Empire. And the Jedi, exposed as supreme puppet masters of the Clone Wars, turned on the Grand Army of the Republic, but luckily the Clone Troops and Navy prevailed.

Druffies woke from his revere and finally noticed an eerie silence had enveloped the assembly hall. Each of his fellow cadets had a similar shocked expression.

"I know what you are thinking, cadets," continued the Inquisitor, breaking the silence. "You are recalling the Holonet documentaries on how Force sensitivity corrupts the lives of all it touches, and that is true, but I am here to reveal something to you here today that no one outside the Inquisition knows. The Blessed Emperor Himself can touch the Force. He used it to defend himself from the Jedi traitors but he did not become corrupt because he used it only to better the Galaxy. If you use your powers only in service, the power will not consume you as it did the Jedi. Trust in the Emperor and follow his example. Put the Emperor and the Empire above all things, even your own life and darkness will not consume you. You will consume the darkness and bring joy to the Galaxy."

Well, that was one hell of speech, thought Druffies. The day had barely more than begun and he already felt out of his depth.

 _To be continued..._


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The rest of Druffies' first day in inquisitor training became a blur. After the Head Inquisitor's address, they were introduced to the training cadre of the facility. Dorm assignments were handed out and training schedules self-downloaded to the cadet's datapads. Druffies was very familiar with the procedure, having been though first the Imperial Fleet's training and then officer training.

One major difference he noted, however, was that very little of the Inquisitor training involved group activities. He guessed that made sense if they were to act alone in the field, but the Imperial Captain in Druffies rebelled at this idea. As Captain of an Imperial Star Destroyer, over forty-seven thousand men and women had served on his ship and each had to work very closely with their peers to keep it running in Imperial fashion. Nevertheless, as much as he wasn't used to it, he'd have to get over it. And quickly. His schedule had allowed very little time to fraternise with his fellow candidates beyond young Carba, anyway.

On his second day, Druffies found that one of the candidates was someone he had encountered in his career as a Captain. A young brash pirate called Siju - a typical Corellian that had made a nasty habit of targeting worlds _Corinthian Rain_ was sent to patrol. On their first encounter, Siju's ship had managed destroy a money changing centre on Convex Five after loading up his holds with all the credit coins and cards they could carry. Over one thousand imperial citizens were still in the building when he launched his torpedoes at it. Siju had then commed the Star Destroyer to gloat about the money he'd made and the deaths, claiming each death was on Druffies for not being better. Druffies had sworn to bring him to justice but instead only found himself chasing shadows every time he tried.

"He Druf, hope you're still not banking on Convex, I hear the security is a little lax," taunted Siju, upon noticing Druffies glaring at him.

Druffies had no reply. Instead, dropping the datapad in his hand, he launched himself at the pirate.

Siju reeled as Druffies launched a barrage of fists and head butts in his vague direction.

Then, from out of nowhere, the ubiquitous Inquisition Troops arrived and pulled the men apart.

"Gentlemen, enough!" roared their tutor for the day, "This isn't Cardia and you aren't Stormtroopers with numbers for names. This is not how things are done in the Inquisition."

Druffies felt a wave of embarrassment. He was an Imperial officer and should know better. Siju was Hutt slime who deserved a beating, but he had done himself no favours reacting like an animal to his words.

"I apologise, Inquisitor," he said. "It wont happen again"

"Damn right it won't, Druf," retorted Siju producing a wicked looking vibroblade from a sheath on his belt. "Next time you try and sucker punch me I'll stick my blade in your heart."

This time Druffies ignored the taunt, picking up his datapad and eying the Corellian pirate with a look that promised unfinished business.

As it happened, the very next day they were to begin combat training. While previously lessons on how to focus the Force had been solitary, this was a group exercise.

The seven candidates were set up in a room filled with various bladed weapons, each candidate free to chose whichever suited them best. Druffies, being a traditionalist, had chosen a sword very similar to those he'd seen the Inquisitors carrying. While Siju, he noticed, had scorned the weapons offered and instead produced the same vibroblade he had waved at Druffies the day before, along with an exact replica.

"They're called Greed and Wrath, Druf," Siju told him. "But don't worry, you'll see them up close soon enough."

Before Druffies could even be tempted to reply, the Inquisitor instructor beckoned the candidates over.

"You have began to touch the Force beautifully but, today, you _swim_ in the Force. There is no better way to experience this that in combat. You will face training droids with live weapons. Make a mistake and you bleed. Any questions?" he didn't pause. "No? Then begin."

Druffies approached the mark he was directed to by the instructor. Facing him was a very basic looking droid wielding a sword in each hand and behind him he felt the presence of an Instructor.

"You got in to an altercation with the pirate yesterday," he said. "Use it. Imagine the droid you are facing is Siju and take your revenge." The instruction was whispered in a tone so low Druffies feared he was imagining it. But, imagination or not, it was a damn good idea.

Suddenly, the lights of the droids' eyes glowed a malevolent red. With hardly a sound, the droid swung a sword at Druffies, attempting to take off his head. Druffies opened himself to the Force as he'd been taught and managed to bring up his own sword just in time to deflect the droid and knock it back with a thud. Again, the droid pressed the attack and each time Druffies' Force Enhanced reflexes answered just in time to avoid injury.

From across the gym floor, Druffies heard Siju taunt, "Come on Druf, you're making us late for lunch."

Druffies clenched his teeth and soon enough the droids eyes darkened and the machine went back to hibernation.

After a brief stop for refreshment, they continued the training.

Druffies began to realise that, even though he couldn't sense what the droid was going to do, he could feel the danger. If the droid was going to aim for his head he felt an almost imperceptible itch in the area being targeted. As the day wore on, Druffies began to put his full trust in these feelings and by the end of the session he was drenched with sweat but he was also one of the few candidates with not a single scratch.

 _To be continued..._


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

As the week wore on, combat training remained a major part of life for the Inquisition candidates. Brutal mornings were spent battling the gladiator droids on increasingly difficult settings while from afternoon to evening Inquisition Instructors gave them individual instruction on the Force.

Druffies began to feel his connection to the Force grow. His reaction times were amazingly fast now and the sword he'd chosen became like an extension of his arm. His instructor offered suggestion on how to better focus his link to the Force, to concentrate on his loyalty to the Empire generally and to The Emperor specifically. Druffies did this happily, but in difficult circumstances he also found himself drawing on his anger. Much to his annoyance, Siju excelled at combat and when facing the gladiator droids Druffies often pictured Siju's face.

At the end of one week of intense training, Druffies had withdrawn deep into himself barely talking to any of the candidates, not even young Carba. He had only two goals now: to complete training so he could hunt Benaq and, while doing so, find a way to make Siju pay for the lives he'd taken.

In week three of the same schedule, Druffies time had finally arrived. Siju noticed that Carba almost hero worshiped Druffies and had taken to tormenting the young Lieutenant as a way of niggling at him. One afternoon, as they filed out of combat training, Siju tripped Carba sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap.

"Clumsy nerf herder!" Siju snarled at him.

Carba had taken enough abuse by this point and leapt to his feet, raising his fist in preparation to beat some manners into the brash pirate. However Siju seemed to have a much deeper connection to the Force and easily avoided a flurry of wild punches and kicks.

Druffies tried to rush forward to protect his young friend but he couldn't get past the other candidates. Realty seemed to take on a dream like quality, his forward motion hampered like he was running through a low gravity environment.

"Siju, leave him alone or I'll kill you!" he roared.

Siju being distracted by the threat, Carba finally managed to get a hit on him. With a crack, Carba's fist made contact with Siju's nose, badly breaking it.

Siju's face was a crimson mask of rage, all playfulness gone he drew his wicked blades and advanced on Carba, who had had left his preferred weapon – a Force Pike – on the weapons rack and was unarmed. Meanwhile, time still seemed to move in slow motion for Druffies, and he could only watch in horror as Siju moved with the grace of a trained killer and inflicted painful gashes on Carba's face and arms. He was clearly enjoying playing with Carba. With a flash of artificial light on his twin blades, he again darted forward, this time inflicting deep cuts on Carba's legs, slowing him down.

Exhausted from the morning's training and the debilitating cuts inflicted on him, Carba dropped to his knees in a pool of his own blood. Siju turned to wink at Druffies before placing his knives against Carba's throat, ready to finish it finally.

Then, with a roar of unbridled rage, Druffies managed to break through the fog that had been cluttering his mind and body and rushed toward Siju.

He drew the sword from his scabbard and knocked his fellow candidates out of the way.

"Ah, so the Imperial Captain does have a heart," sneered Siju, turning to face him.

Druffies said nothing in reply, instead opening himself up further to the Force.

Siju launched his attack, feigning with one blade while trying to inflict a nasty wound to the forehead with the other.

In his mind's eye, Druffies saw exactly which way Siju would move a split second before he actually did. Firmly cantered in the Force, that second was a lifetime, and he contemptuously parried the attack.

Again Siju pounced, this time trying to knock aside Druffies's sword with one dagger so he could attack with the other, but Druffies anticipated the move and launched a high kick that connected with Siju's wrist and knocked the dagger from his leading arm.

Siju's eyes opened wide with shock. Unable to get an advantage on the smug Imperial, he ripped a vibroaxe from a watching candidate and sheathed his remaining blade.

With the new weapon in his hands, Siju redoubled his attack.

His eyes burning with hatred, Druffies was forced to back peddle his attack. He was shaken by the rage he faced, and his connection to the Force was weakened by it.

Druffies retreated to the training room while Siju beamed with satisfied a look that revolted him. Siju now had the reach advantage and Druffies was really struggling to hold him off.

Suddenly, Druffies felt a lance of pain – he had miscalculated and not jumped back far enough from a wild swing, and Siju's axe had raked a deep cut across his chest. Without the Force, Druffies had no chance of defeating Siju. He knew he had only one option left. In his mind's eye he recalled all the anger and rage he felt in his lifetime. He imagined the surface of his home planet burning, he imagined Siju laughing after murdering so many innocents and a thousand other atrocities he'd witnesses in his life. Most of all, he recalled the sight of _Snare Trap_ , flames engulfing the proud ship from stem to stern; he remembered the lives of each crewmember and the dull shock as each life was snuffed out.

Empowered by his anger and his hatred, Druffies raised a hand willing the vibroaxe to leap out of Siju's hand and into his.

Suddenly unarmed, Siju stopped in his tracks, and with a mighty roar Druffies swung the axe with all his might connecting with Siju's neck and passing clean through it.

Siju's body crumbled to the floor, his severed neck squirting gouts of blood. Druffies was faintly aware that one of the other trainees was violently sick. Numb with shock, he only half-processed what else was going on around him: Inquisition Troopers walking up to him, removing the axe; being grabbed at roughly and lead away as Carba looked on in total horror. It was that look that finally penetrated his trance-like state.

 _What have I done?_ he then thought.

 _To be continued..._


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven 

Druffies felt an unnecessary shove from the troopers as he entered the Head Inquisitor's office. He gave the trooper a glare then erased him from his mind.

"Sit down, Druffies," came the irritatingly calm voice from under the heavy hood of the Inquisitor before him. "Would you care to tell me what happened?"

"I'm sure you already know," Druffies snarled, still struggling to control his temper even as he compiled to the command and took his seat.

"I'd like you to tell me, in your own words, please."

"Siju was attacking Carba, and I stopped him," said Druffies, simply.

"By cutting off his head? Surely there were other ways?" The inquisitor's voice was still calm, but came across a little mocking, also. Druffies felt patronized, on top of everything else.

"I didn't have time to figure out another way," he answered. "Besides, Siju was a murderer and a pirate. He got no more than he deserved."

"Ah, so we get to the root of the problem. Siju and you had previous encounters, correct?"

Something in the way the question was asked told Druffies that the Inquisitor already knew the answer, but he found himself answering anyway. His anger was such that he could have ranted for days about the injustice of it all.

"Siju robbed and destroyed a bank on a planet I was patrolling. Murdered over a thousand Imperial citizens. He was hutt slime."

"Then why not arrest him when you saw him here at the training facility?"

Druffies had no answer for that. His jaw hung open in silence.

"I'll tell you why, Druffies," continued the Inquisitor, "You wanted revenge, not justice. You allowed Siju's arrogance lead him to a trap and you sprung it as soon as you had the chance."

"No, I…" began Druffies, but the excuses died on his lips. He recognised the truth of it. He did want Siju dead, to suffer. Guilt began to eat at him. At least, that was until he heard what the Inquisitor said next.

"An Imperial Captain would have arrested him, but an Inquisitor would have allowed his prey to trap himself, as you did. You have done well, Druffies."

He found his jaw hung open again in shock. Done well? It was an understatement to say it was not the reaction he expected.

"Now I must make sure you retain your focus to become great," the Inquisitor continued. "We need to ask you a few questions, so we can find out a bit more about your suitability."

"Should I lie down?" quipped Druffies, trying to alleviate the tension building up between his shoulder blades.

"If that makes you feel more comfortable. Start off with a breathing exercise. Breathe in for five seconds and exhale for ten seconds. As you breathe in, feel the rush of fresh clean air. Breathe out, and feel your worries and troubles leave your system."

Druffies continued this exercise for a few minutes and felt the tension leave him, mostly.

"So captain," began the Inquisitor, "Tell me about your mother. Are you close with her?"

Druffies felt a stab of annoyance. His family circumstances were a matter of record.

"You know fine rightly my mother was on Centril when Grievous performed a Base Delta Zero on it during the clone war."

Seemingly unaffected by the response, the Inquisitor continued to press. "When she was alive, how did you get on?"

Druffies swallowed his anger and took another deep breath.

"I wasn't home, much," he said. "Was enrolled in Judicial Academy from the age of ten and then transferred to the Imperial Naval Academy in Cardia when I was eighteen. My mother was a stern woman who expected the best from her children."

"What is your earliest memory?"

"Being sent to Judicial Academy. I didn't want to leave, didn't want things to change"

"And what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"My life was mapped from the day I was conceived, I came from a family of Judicials. My name was down for the Academy before my zygote was formed."

There was a pause before the final question. "What is your saddest memory?"

"When I heard my home planet had been bombed to oblivion. I knew that day my parents would never see me graduated with my officer's rank insignia."

"I see," finished the Inquisitor. "I'd been going on the assumption you were a starch assed Officer we needed to mould into an Inquisitor. The truth is you are a natural Inquisitor that your family moulded to become something else."

Surprised by the Inquisitor's sudden break from formality to use the word 'assed', Druffies wasn't sure what to say to that. It made sense, he supposed. The conversation with the Inquisitor had raised memories and feelings carefully buried by years of training and duty. He wanted to be an officer so he could bring wicked creatures like Grievous and Siju to justice, and being on the bridge of a capital ship seemed the best way to accomplish that. But the Inquisition offered something new. With the Inquisition's training and resources he could be the one to _personally_ bring justice, not through relayed orders to gunners or Stormtroopers.

With a thud, the Inquisitor dropped a wrapped package on the table in front of him, effectively bringing him out of his reverie.

"This is for you, Druffies. Go ahead and take a look."

He unwrapped the frayed and dirty cloth from around the object and was surprised that the package was a two handed great sword.

"Unsheathe it," ordered the suddenly sharp tone of the Inquisitor.

With barely a sound, Druffies pulled the sword from its decorative sheath. It was made of an obsidian stone that seemed to drink the light from the room, and down the middle were strange runes in blood red that glowed so much they initially hurt Druffies' eyes just looking at them. But, after a few seconds, his eyes regained focus and a strange whispering just out of the range of his hearing filled his mind. The sword was as beautiful as it was deadly.

"This is a Sith sword," intoned the Inquisitor, bringing Druffies' attention back to him, once more. "Do you know what the Sith are?"

Druffies shook his head, still unable to break his eyes away from the runes on the glorious sword.

"The Sith were the race that taught the galaxy how to use the Force. The early Jedi befriended them and gained all their knowledge before destroying the race in an attempt to keep the power for themselves. In time, a rogue Jedi learned the truth and turned his back on his fellow Jedi for it. He began his own order named after the Sith race, and tried to teach the galaxy the reality and corruption of the Jedi. Untold numbers died in the wars between Jedi and Sith that followed. It's an old story and I will not waste your time with the specifics. Suffice to say the The Holy Emperor is the surviving heir of the Sith and we in the Inquisition are his loyalist servants and agents. We are a vibroblade in the dark, evil places you can't send a glowing Star Destroyer or a regiment of Stormtroopers. We live our lives in shadow so that the rest of the galaxy may enjoy the sun. You are dismissed, Dayvid."

Druffies managed to pull his gaze away from the sword long enough to return it to its scabbard, then silently left the office.

That night, he dreamed of his fight with Siju, only this time when he cut off his head the spray of blood from Siju's neck turned into the shape of the runes on the blade of his Sith sword.

 _To be continued…_


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The day following the surprisingly fortuitous incident, Druffies felt all eyes on him as he sat down in his usual seat for breakfast. He felt a wave of emotion as Carba entered, but the initial pleasure quickly turned to annoyance as Carba picked up his tray of vaguely edible mush and walked right past Druffies to sit at a bench alone, near the door. What he did not feel, however, was regret over killing Siju. In fact, he was glad he'd done it. The pirate deserved it, and it ended up working in Druffies favour.

After breakfast was completed, he rushed to catch up to Carba.

"Something the matter?" asked Druffies, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"No, Sir. May I be excused, Sir?" came the terse reply.

"No you may not," Druffies bit back, swallowing frustration as thick at the protein matter he'd just eaten. "A little gratitude might be in order. I saved your bloody life yesterday!"

"Did you? Or did I provide you with the excuse you had been waiting for? I don't appreciate being a pawn in your high ranking games, _Sir_." This time the title was even brusquer than before.

"That's not how it was, Carba," Druffies started to protest, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"That's a nice sword on your back, Sir. Reward from the Inquisition for your first kill?" Carba sneered, walking away to the training room.

Druffies took a moment to gather his thoughts. _Ungrateful little snark!_ he thought, as he followed the rest of the trainees into the training room. Once there, he began the deep breathing exercises to centre himself in the Force, but it was to no avail. Frustrated at his failure, he unsheathed his Sith Sword and took a few practice swings with it. Meanwhile, the other trainees gasped at the sight of the sword and began to whisper among themselves.

Druffies paid them no mind, instead taking more swings and practising his katas. The sword - though big - was deceptively light. It required two hands, however, and a slightly altered stance in order to prevent over-swing. Druffies imagined that Siju was in front of him and allowed his fury to guide him on how the fight could have been if he'd had the sword the day before.

This day, Druffies excelled in the combat exercises; able to easily fight three gladiator droids and disable them without receiving a scratch. The sword moved in his hands with a life force of its own. As he fought, the purity of deadly combat purged his mind of all his worries. Siju, Carba, even Benaq and his betrayal faded. All that existed was the sword and things that needed to be destroyed.

Then, all of a sudden, a loud shout interrupted his meditations.

"You are not feeling the Force, cadet Carba, you are fighting it," came the delicately raised voice of the Inquisitor Instructor.

Druffies noted that Carba was bleeding heavily from several new cuts, and that several of the wounds inflicted by Siju yesterday had reopened, turning Carba into a bloodstained mess.

"I don't care," he cried, throwing down his Force Pike with a crash. "The Inquisition and go frag itself, I want to go back to Solar Winds and forget this ever happened!"

"You know that can't happen, Cadet Carba. This isn't the Imperial Youth Corps, you don't quit when you skin your knee," replied the Instructor, now with a menacing tone.

"So you'll do what? Kill me too? I don't care, I'm not a murderer like you want me to be. I'll _never_ be a murderer."

"There are many ways to serve the Inquisition, Cadet Carba," offered the Inquisitor.

"Does that hood affect your hearing? I want out."

Druffies felt an unmistakable sense of dread, one that he had felt the day _Snare Trap_ was destroyed. From the back of the training room, two Inquisition Troopers entered, both fully armed.

"The Troopers will take you to the High Inquisitors Office, Cadet Carba."

"More likely to the nearest food waste dispenser," came the retort.

Then Druffies felt a buzz in the air as Carba ripped the blaster rifle from one of the trooper's hands. With a quick flick of the thumb, he switched to stun and dropped the two troopers with stun bolts.

Time seemed to stand still as Carba swung round to bring the rifle to bear on the Inquisitor.

"You fool!"

Shrugging off his robe to reveal heavy trooper armour, the Inquisitor raised his hand to absorb the stun bolt. One shot, then two, then three bolts hit the Inquisitor's outstretched hand.

Then, clenching his open hand into a fist, the rifle flew from Carba's hands. And with another gesture, Carba suddenly became immobile, his whole body lifted from the ground.

"You will serve the Inquisition in whatever way we see fit, but it seems you have chosen to be a lesson."

Again Druffies felt a kind of buzzing in the air, and he could see the flows of the Force linking the Inquisitor to Carba. In his third eye he saw strands of black infused with blood-red holding Carba in the air. Yet more strands stretched out from the Inquisitor's fist to Carba's eyes, nose, and mouth; and the redness in the strands began to outshine the black as they contracted.

Druffies blinked, unsure what he was seeing. When he opened his eyes again he saw that Carba's face was a mask of pain. Blood flooded from his ears, nose, and eyes. His mouth struggled to form words, but they could not squeeze past the blood flowing from his open mouth.

Touching the Force, he involuntarily saw the dark strands returning to the Inquisitor. And, with a final crack, Carba's neck broke and he fell to a heap on the floor.

"Clean this mess up," the Inquisitor ordered, his voice once again calm and measured.

With a gesture, the discarded robe leapt to the inquisitor's hand and he donned it, turning his back to the other cadets.

"You have seen the mailed fist that lies under the velvet glove of the Inquisition. You all serve, one way or another."

Druffies swallowed his shock and tried to take in what he had just witnessed. It was all he could do.

That night, Druffies again dreamed of his fight with Siju. Again he cut through Siju's neck, and again the blood formed the same runes that were on his Sith Sword. However this time when Siju's head came to rest on the floor, Druffies noticed that it was indeed Carba's that landed before him.

 _To be continued..._


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

After an example was made of Carba, Druffies was moved on to advanced training. Most of it was a blur and very mundane, involving equipment training and increasing his knowledge of the underbelly of the Empire and beyond, where he would be hunting his quary.

On his final day of training, he was again brought to the now familiar Office of the Head Inquisitor.

"Welcome, Captain Druffies, or should that be Junior Inquisitor Druffies," began the calm, measured tones of the Head Inquisitor of the Inquisition Academy.

Druffies took a moment to consider it. _I guess my old rank is gone, I am an Inquisitor_.

He noted that, unlike his first meeting, he could see every detail of the Inquisitor. He had an impossibly old and wrinkled face, lined in webs of burst blood vessels. Most notable of all was his eyes. The pupils were very wide, even in the bright lights of the office. Surrounding the pupils was a ring of violet hinting at a not exactly human heritage and, where a normal eye would be white, his eyes were a very unhealthy yellow.

With withered pale fingers, the Inquisitor pushed across a small data card towards Druffies.

"This is your authority. If you have any issues with Imperials in the field just give them this card. It will link the viewer to a special file on the Imperial Network and instruct them to give you any and all assistance you require, followed by a note to forget you ever met. It is signed off by Sate Prestage, the Emperor's closest assistant, though he knows nothing of our organisation beyond that we exist and live to serve his master. Your orders are to report to Convex - I believe you know it. There you will begin your hunt for the traitor Benaq. We believe that weapons stolen from Corellia are being funnelled through the garrison there, for shipment to the Rebels. We could easily liquidate the base but we want you to infiltrate the operation and get the location of Benaq's main operation, first. Your full orders will be uploaded to your datapad when you make planet fall.

"It goes without saying, Druffies, that you are to be discrete about this. We aren't the ISB, flashing our credentials all over the place and leaving a trail of dead aliens to highlight our operation."

Druffies nodded, then leapt to his feet, knowing the audience was over. Quickly palming his new ID data card, he offered a bow to the Inquisitor.

"Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down. The Rebels will pay."

"See that they do. May the Holy Emperor guide you."

Druffies was puzzled again at the use of the word Holy to describe the Emperor. The first time, so much had been going on he didn't question it, but it was noted somewhere in the back of his mind.

 _Perhaps it would be worth spending some time pondering on the shuttle ride to Convex._

Druffies had been issued an Anxarta-class light freighter named _Swift Profit_. Though small and compact, the entire ship had been gutted and rebuilt. The hyperdrive was on par with any military ship and the ship's powerplant had been replaced with one from a Sentinel-class landing craft. This reduced the cargo capacity but powered twin Concussion launchers.

The double laser cannons had also been replaced with heavier models.

Hidden behind the walls of Druffies' cabin were enough arms and explosives to outfit a small army.

On the voyage to Convex, Druffies used the shipboard computer to create an elaborate cover to back up his cover story. He would pose as a former Glitterstim smuggler who was down on his luck and was moving into the safer industry of arms smuggling - Druffies decided his alter ego wouldn't be too bright. Once he reached Convex he would land in Convex City and begin trawling the local cantinas for the kind of scum that would happily leech the empire to arm the Rebellion for a few credits to squander on booze, drugs, and loose companions.

Content with his plans, Druffies tried to catch some sleep. The freighter had a very sophisticated computer system meaning that the ship basically flew itself. In his cramped cabin, Druffies settled into a comfortable position and tried to meditate on his mission. He wanted to prove himself worthy of the trust the Inquisition had placed in him, the secondary advantage being that he would get one step closer to Benaq.

Finally falling asleep, he dreamed the now familiar dream of his fight with Siju. In the dream he had no connection to the Force and was being cut to ribbons. As his blood splattered to the ground, the spray formed the symbols on his Sith sword. And as Siju stepped forward to finish the job, his face morphed into the face of Benaq. All of a sudden, Druffies was on his feet with his sword in hand. With a roar of pure rage he swung the sword with all his might.

Beyond the headless body, Druffies saw the Head Inquisitor, cackling like a Gungun on Space Dust and applauding. Then, beside the clapping Inquisitor, on his knees, was Carba. Tears of infinite sorrow streaked his face as blood flowed from his nose and the sides of his mouth.

Druffies woke with a scream. Somehow in the midst of his dream he had called the Sith sword to his hand and he now lay cradling it in his arms.

 _How strange,_ he thought.

An alarm sounded in the cockpit of the freighter, signalling that he was five minutes from emerging from Hyperspace into the Convex system.

Setting himself into the sole chair in the cockpit, Druffies began the slow breathing that would put him in a meditative state. Then, once fully immersed in the force, he created a consciousness to fit over his own as his instructors had taught him.

He viewed his new identity in the Force: Captain Jeus Brandil, native of Corellia, who joined a swoop gang as a young boy. Excelled as a pickpocket who, by the age of twenty, had developed a taste for illicit substances. Space Dust and Subderms were his drugs of choice. He began dealing for one of the Hutt Cartels in Coronet City as a way to subsidise his expensive habit. Last year he managed to score big, arranging a deal under the nose of Corellian Security, making his employers a significant profit.

Recognising Brandil's nose for a gift, they bought him a new liver - this one drug resistant - and set him up with enough capital to buy a ship and enter the arms trading market. Slightly too cocky in his new role, Brandil ended up chased by CorSec and having to abandon his home on Coronet. Now living off scraps, he was making just enough to keep his Hutt masters from disintegrating him.

Druffies smiled as he donned the identity like a mask. The personality sat on top of his own and would pass all but the most intense interrogation. His own ego would sit in a semi-ready state, prepared to take over should anything go beyond the expected.

Rising from the chair, he returned to his cabin. Opening a secret panel, he retrieved a blaster pistol, some spare power clips, a flashed comlink and a few credit vouchers. Placing these items on the cabin bed, he then retrieved his Sith sword from beside the bed.

Very few criminals used melee weapons these days, and even fewer would possess one of such quality. With regret, Druffies opened another secret panel - this one above his headboard - and placed the sword with a great reverence in the slot carved out for it.

Closing that panel, he placed his required items in the pockets of his lightly armoured utility suit and looked at himself in the mirror. In the last few days he has stopped shaving, conscious that if he looked too clean he wouldn't fit in. In training, his hair had grown out from its military short-cut.

He wore a faded and frayed grey utility jumpsuit which, in carefully selected places, the material had been reinforced with light plasteel. The suit was covered with pockets that contained his datapad, comlink, and a set of false ID's he had created before leaving Coruscant. At his waist he carried a well-used blaster that was slung low on the thigh for easy draw. The belt was an inexpensive synthetic bantha hide.

Lastly, he wore pair of knee-length boots of the same synthetic bantha hide as his belt. Though worn and battered looking, the comfi-gel inserts of the boots made for the most comfortable footwear Druffies had ever worn. He knew that if he curled his toes just the right way a blade would emerge from the front of the treads giving an unexpected bite to anyone he may have to kick.

Satisfied that he looked every bit the scumbag he felt he was, Druffies once more returned to the cabin, assumed a lazy posture, and waited to be contacted by the System Traffic Patrol.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Druffies didn't have to wait long before the com system of his ship sputtered to life.

"Freighter Swift Profit, Identify your cargo and destination."

"This is Captain Brantil, owner of the independent freighter Swift Profit. I'm hoping to land on Convex Five in search of some cargo to fill my empty holds," replied Druffies, filling his voice with the casual contempt so many freighter Captains had for Imperial procedure.

"Stand by to be sensor sweeped, Brantil. If you're as clean as you say you are you may proceed."

"That's _Captain_ Brantil, Convex Control," muttered Druffies.

The System Patrol craft chose not to reply.

The sensors board lit up as the sweep was carried out.

Druffies had no fear that the sweep would reveal anything other than an empty cargo hold and himself. The inquisition had spared no expense in outfitting the ship with the latest sensor stealthing technology, and he was confident that the sensor returns wouldn't reveal the modifications on the ship.

After a few minutes, the comm popped again.

"You're clear to proceed to Convex Five, Brantil. Enjoy your stay."

Druffies shut down the comm and entered the co-ordinates for Convex City, the capital of Convex Five, before settling down for a brief nap.

Thirty minutes later, he felt the ship rock as it entered the atmosphere.

The planet was sparsely populated compared to Coruscant, or even Corellia, but it still boasted a population of over ten million, most of whom lived in Convex City. There was only one public star port built in the shadow of the Imperial Garrison and its adjoining landing platform.

Taking control of the ship, Druffies made flyby of the city enjoying the innocent thrill of being in control of a ship instead of merely issuing orders to a pilot.

After a few moments of flying by feel, Druffies found himself over the star port. Landing in one of the many available docks, he shut down the engines and prepared to go through customs.

He donned a travel cloak of a rough spun brown material, and strode down the ramp of the ship, at the bottom of which he retrieved his datapad and punched in the commands to lock the ship down and set the security systems. If anyone not matching his biometics entered the ship, it would alter him and explode, erasing all evidence that it was any more than it appeared.

Glancing round at the other ships docked, Druffies saw nothing unusual and strode towards the building marked _Customs_.

He passed through with no problems, carrying a license for the blaster he had, and his false ID.

It had been created by the same type of system that created real IDs.

Druffies let the Brantil ego answer the standard customs questions.

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

"Business"

"What kind of business?"

"What ever fills my cargo hold. I have zero cargo and too many credits."

"Do you have any outstanding warrants in Imperial Space?"

"I did get a ticket for j-walking last year."

The customs officer actually laughed at the lame joke.

"So where would an upstanding business man like myself go for a drink in this place?" asked Druffies, figuring such an earnest and naïve person wouldn't know a smugglers den from a garden centre.

"Try the Imperial Hotel," he was told. "If you link to the Convex Datasphere you should be able to get a map to it."

"Thanks, you've been a pleasure. Can you refuel my ship while I'm away? Charge it to my account."

"No problem, Captain Brantil. Enjoy your stay on Convex Five."

Druffies exited the customs office, perplexed that it had been so easy. Considering the local bank had been blown up not so long ago, he expected to receive more than a cursory glance from Customs.

Walking with the easy stride of a man used to stepping on a different planet every week, Druffies approached an unoccupied air taxi.

The Bith driver looked Druffies up and down before unlocking the passenger compartment.

"Where to, gentlebeing?"

"I was told that the Imperial Hotel would suit my needs," said Druffies, pushing an unsaid suggestion into the large head of the Bith.

"Oh no no, gentlebeing. That wouldn't suit you at all. You want the Crash Landing. That would be more your scene."

"Let me guess, dirty liquor and dirtier clientele?"

The Bith snorted a laugh as he lifted off into the skylanes, cutting off three lanes of oncoming traffic.

After a hair-raising journey that caused Druffies to drop into the Force more than once to see if he was likely to die, the Bith dropped him off at _Crash Landing_.

"Twenty Five credits, gentlebeing."

Druffies dropped a fifty-credit coin in the slot between driver and passenger and emerged from the air taxi.

Looking up at the building, he decided he was definitely at the local hive of scum and villainy.

In glaring letters reading 'Cr-sh Land-ng' were the full sized holo of a downed Tie Fighter. One of the solar wings was missing, and the engine was on fire. Calling this place a dive would be to upgrade it several levels.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _This will do._

 _To be continued..._


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Entering the cantina, Druffies detected the usual aroma of narcotics, stale alcohol, the sweat of an untold number of alien and human patrons. He strode over to the bar and placed an order for a Lomin Ale. After noting that the ale had more foam than liquid, he took a quick sip, finding the pale green drink surprisingly fresh and zesty.

The Force flashed a warning, seemingly out of nowhere, as the drink was slapped from his hand.

"I don't like human scum," snarled a reptilian Trandoshan.

"Good thing I'm not one then, isn't it."

"You are human, and humans are scum!"

"Oh dear. This isn't going to be your day is it, friend?" quipped Druffies.

From behind the bar, he heard the panicked appeal of, "No blasters, no blasters!" but shooting the Trandoshan was the last thing Druffies wanted to do.

Centring on the Force, he took measure of the Trandoshan in front of him. His claws would rip him to shreds in an instant, without need for the blaster rifle slung over his shoulder.

Druffies, acting on instinct, kicked the Trandoshan with all his might in the right knee. For the Force had whispered that this was a weak spot and would end the fight with no loss of life and a minimum of bother.

Strengthened by the Force, and a reinforced durasteel toecap, the Trandoshan's knee shattered with an ugly pop.

He fell to the floor, screaming and vowing bloody vengeance in several languages.

Then a cloaked man emerged from the smoke of the bar and approached Druffies.

"Ignore Sarda," he said. "That old lizard hates everyone. Can I buy you a new drink?"

"Sure. Lomin Ale."

"Husk, get the man a Lomin Ale. And get someone to clear this mess," the cloaked figure ordered the bar keep.

This time the ale was in a larger glass, and the foam-to-liquid ratio was much more in the customers favour.

The cloaked man gestured to an unoccupied booth. "Would you like to join me?"

"Well, you did buy me a drink. It would be rude not to."

In the booth, the man lowered his hood revealing a scarred human face. It was weathered and beaten in such a way he could be thirty with bad luck, or eighty with interesting tales to tell.

"You can call me Pops, everyone in this place does," he said, offering a hand.

"Brantil," offered Druffies in return.

"Never seen you here before."

"Never been here before, Pops," said Druffies, relying on the Brantil ego to feel the other man out.

"You sure seem to know how to handle yourself, Brantil. Not many men can take a Trandoshan out in one kick, even if the particular Trandoshan is swimming in Space Dust. How did you know he had a bad knee?"

"I didn't. I was just lucky"

"Yeah, lucky," said Pops, dismissively. "You a bounty hunter or something?"

"Frack no," laughed Druffies, swallowing more of the ale. "Who wants to earn their money the hard way?"

"How do you earn your money?" asked Pops, suddenly quite serious.

Druffies eased into the Force, and it told him this guy wasn't a threat. If anything, he was a facilitator for the local underworld trying to get a handle on who the newcomer was.

"I own a ship - Swift Profit. I buy rare things and get them to those who have the money to buy them."

Pops narrowed his eyes. "What kind of rare things?"

"Any kind. I just landed with an empty hold and have a pocket full of credit."

"Is that so… how many credits?"

"One Hundred."

Pops began shaking with laughter.

"One hundred credits? Sure I've an old blaster pistol from the Clone Wars I can sell you."

"One hundred _thousand_ credits, old man. That enough for you?"

"Now that's more like it," replied Pops, all sense of merriment gone in a flash. "What are you looking to buy?"

"Well, you mentioned weapons, perhaps we could start there. Though something more powerful and up to date."

"Can you give me a day to make a few calls? I'm glad I met you, Brantil."

"And I'm sure you're glad you set your pet Trandoshan on me, too?"

If Pops was surprised he was found out so easily he didn't let it show on his face.

"Sarda serves a purpose. He keeps out nosey Imperials and do-gooder Rebels. What's your comm link frequency? Once I get things set up I'll call you."

Druffies wrote down his frequency on a napkin and finished his ale.

"Thanks for the drink, Pops. See ya tomorrow"

Rising from the booth, he suppressed a wolfish grin. It was obvious Pops had sent the Trandoshan. If it hadn't folded like a deck of cards, Pops would have slid in to save the new comer. As it happened, he was able to stop any further confrontation and get Druffies' Comm Link frequency. It was now just a question of whether Pops meant to rob him, or if he actually could introduce him to the local arms dealers. Arms deals who could point him to Benaq.

 _To be continued..._


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

After a brief stop to buy some food on his way back from the cantina, Druffies returned to his freighter to contemplate the latest goings on.

For the first time in his adult life, he had time and space to breathe; no immediate superiors to answer to, and no direct goals beyond finding out who was smuggling weapons to the Rebels. Ultimately, this would lead to Benaq, which was his ultimate goal: vengeance for the crew of _Snare Trap_.

Aboard the freighter _Swift Profit,_ Druffies settled into a meditative state in the spare cabin that had been set up as for this purpose.

His gut instinct was that Pops was leading him into a trap, seeking easy money by robbery rather than the hard way, especially if the victim was a newcomer to the planet. The Hutts had very little influence in this part of the mid-rim, strangely, and Druffies began to contemplate how to turn this situation to his advantage.

A warm feeling in his mind told him that the Force concurred with his reasoning.

The simple answer was to walk right into the trap and then walk away from it unscathed. That meant that blood would be spilled, and Druffies felt strangely satisfied with this solution. So, it was decided.

Now that the immediate planning was out of the way, his mind drifted towards the events that had happened to him. In doing so, he realised that, with a strange detachment, he should have been horrified at the blood he'd spilled and seen spilled. Intellectually he was. Carba was a fine young officer, the backbone of the Imperial Star Fleet, and a shame to lose. It was unfortunate and undeniable. But another part of Druffies sneered at the sentimentality and recognised that Carba was naive and weak. You don't just walk away from something as important as the Inquisition. Carba's death had reinforced this, and remained a bloody lesson for the surviving cadets.

But what about Siju? A third voice whispered in his mind. What kind of Inquisitor would he have made? He was a murderer, a slaver, and a pirate. What's more, he took pride in being scum. Druffies had done the Inquisition a favour by erasing that mistake. The softer voice in his mind rebelled at that thought, though. Erasure of a mistake was a fine excuse, but that's still all it was.

Blood spilled for blood spilled, said the harsher voice in response to this.

Druffies felt himself drawn to the harsher voice in his mind. It was a tough galaxy outside the shining lights of the Empire. Shy away from the light and darkness might swallow you… or the monsters that lived in the dark would prey on you.

For now, Druffies was satisfied that he'd meditated enough on his decisions, and justified them; picking the best course to follow, going forward. Now he rose from his thoughts.

Glancing at a crono on the wall of his chamber, he was surprised to see that what had felt like a few minutes meditation had actually taken all night, and that the sun was rising. Druffies was also amazed to find that, despite not sleeping for over a day, he was not lacking for energy and felt lighter than he had since the day he saw _Snare Trap_ aflame in the cold dead of space.

He still had a few hours before Pops was to call him so he logged on to the local entertainment net to pass the time.

A few hours after that, his comm began to buzz. It could only be one person.

"Brantil here," said Druffies, slipping into his assumed persona.

"Hey Bran, its yer old pal Pops. I have something that might interest you. Can you meet me at The Crash? Bring hard credit, all of it."

"I don't think I want to walk around with that much credit on me. Not without a Wookie guard of honour."

"My friends don't use credit transfer, Brantil," snapped Pops, suddenly very business like. "Computers leave trails, and I don't want the Imps to get wind of what we're up to under their own noses."

"Sure, Pops. Whatever you say, just give me a few hours to get the Credit Chips processed."

"You have one hour, Brantil. Come alone. No Wookies, not even a Chandra Fan."

That settled it for Druffies, Pops was going to rob him and leave his dead body for the carrion birds. Or, at least, he'd try.

Not on my watch, he thought, his eyes hardening.

Slipping into his cabin, he quickly donned a lightweight combat suit, skin tight and as durable as Stormtrooper armour. Over that he put on his casual nondescript clothing, food stained and travel worn. Buckling on a blaster belt, he considered his Sith sword. It would stand out, but the idea of the sword's presence soothed the nagging in his mind, so he retrieved it from the compartment above his bunk. Instantly, he knew he'd made the right choice.

As he slid the sword into its nerk-hide sheath, he felt complete; prepared for peace, but ready for war. Completing the look, Druffies then donned a well-worn travel cloak - mostly to hide the outline of the sword on his back.

Exiting the freighter, he stalked off back towards the Crash Cantina.

 _To be continued..._


End file.
